Future Markets
by RonCN
Summary: Kimmuriel has been assigned yet another research by Jarlaxle. He complied and found out everything about the artifact wanted by his former leader. But he also found something else along the way. Now, if only he could come up with a good explanation...


_**Disclaimer: **__All standard disclaimers apply. No copyright infringement is intended, no profit is being made. _

_**A/N: **__The story is AU after Servant of the Shard. The events portrayed by Forgotten Realms computer game, Neverwinter Nights Expansion Set 2, are recognized as cannon, for a character I'm using comes from that setting, but it is not necessary to know what it is all about to understand and enjoy this story. If this ones-hot leaves you feeling curious about previous events, though, you can read my other story, 100,000 Lousy Coins, for some background on the Future Markets concept. All that said, please read and enjoy. Feel free to comment... It'd be cool if you could drop a line on the concept of the story and/or characterization. After all, there might be a sequel in the makings..._

* * *

**Future Markets**

A lesser being would have been pacing, but of course, not Kimmuriel Oblodra. The only sign of weakness the former Bregan D'aerthe's lieutenant sported was the slightly above-the-average tense set of his shoulders; something not so noticeable where wariness and tension were the only things getting one through the day.

However, despite his calm appearance, the psionicist was indeed troubled. He dreaded the moment the psionic call would be issued by his former leader and current associate, the true mastermind behind Bregan D'aerthe and its power...

... Jarlaxle, troublemaker extraordinaire.

Kimmuriel was still licking his wounds – metaphorically, of course – after Jarlaxle's latest venture: an expansion project for his mercenary band that stretched thin their resources and ended up in an attempted coup to overthrow the eccentric drow. After orchestrating – or, rather, co-orchestrating – said coup, and in the light of his current situation, Kimmuriel firmly believed that he had been pardoned so that a more fitting punishment could be served later.

And when he heard the weekly summons, robbing him of whatever few hours he managed to forage to rest, he wondered fleetingly if leadership of the mercenary band in the Underdark wasn't indeed a torment worse than death.

That particular time, the shimmering dimensional door took the psionicist to the limit of a forest. Trees so old that the deceased Matron Baenre would have felt young in comparison gave birth to a grassy and smooth slope that rolled down to a valley completely unhindered. Down there, a stream of silver reflected the twinkling light of a myriad stars, who shone brightly in the absence of the moon.

Not that Kimmuriel paid attention to any of this, because his sole focus was placed from the very beginning on the figure that stood casually against one of the trees.

Jarlaxle's ready smile parted his ebony face as he greeted the other elf.

"Kimmuriel! How nice of you to join me tonight!"

The psionicist resisted the impulse to make any biting remark and bowed respectfully instead.

"You wouldn't have it any other way."

Deadpan.

"Of course," Jarlaxle chortled, amused at his co-leader's inability to disguise the deep distaste he had of all things Above. "I imagine you won't fancy staying around for breakfast? You wouldn't believe the delicacies found in the picturesque and cozy inn we're staying at, just 300 yards behind this line of trees!"

There he went, on and on, teasing him. The real reason because of which Kimmuriel was anxious about this meeting hadn't been broached yet, and the psionicist was already resisting the urge to massage his temples. As if dealing with the matron mothers wasn't enough of a day job, he also had to listen periodically to all this nonsense sprouting out of Jarlaxle's mouth – small talk, humans called it, and why the shortest-lived of all races was the most adamant one about spending hours upon hours discussing the weather was an enigma that beat the prodigious intellect of the drow rogue.

On that particular occasion, though, he was almost grateful for the bonus thinking time that Jarlaxle was granting him. Not that he hadn't thought already of what he was going to report, and of the exact wording he was going to use to phrase it, but a drow as perfectionist as him always could use a chance to review every last detail yet again.

And, even though he would be caught dead before admitting it, he also allowed himself to entertain the fantasy of putting this particular week's report off forever.

Obviously, it was not going to be.

"Anyway, Kimmuriel, I digress. I trust you discovered something about the item I requested?"

The psionicist's back went rigid.

"I did. I managed to come across a source that had certain knowledge of it. For instance, its exact location has been confirmed, and some of the possible dangers involved in acquiring it have been outlined."

"That is most fortunate, my friend," Jarlaxle's visible eye glowed with excitement, and his easy smile stretched into a grin while the mercenary leader started to savor his newest success. "Pray do share... I hope the price you had to pay for this precious information was acceptable?"

"Bregan D'aerthe has a new lieutenant."

"..."

"..."

"Beg your pardon?" Which Kimmuriel translated promptly into, what in the 666 layers of the Abyss are you doing with my mercenary band? Stress placed on the 'my'.

Kimmuriel breathed slowly. Now came the part he was dreading; the moment of truth, as the humans Jarlaxle oh-so-dearly loved liked to call it.

"The source I found and referred to is a male drow that goes by the name..."

o O o

"Eldath, of no House worth mentioning," the lean fighter slouched comfortably against a rock as he introduced himself as soon as Kimmuriel arrived to the place where he himself had agreed to meet with this new informant in person.

Kimmuriel suppressed a face of disgust at the other's attitude and managed to pull a disdainful countenance instead. He immediately decided that the fellow did not deserve an introduction, and proceeded to ask the question that had brought him there in the first place.

"Whatever makes you think that you can interest Bregan D'aerthe, and that you are worthy of wasting my personal time?"

The other drow snickered and ran a deceptively delicate hand through his stark white mane.

"The fact that Bregan D'aerthe is wondering about me and that you are here, of course. Oh, and," a malicious gleam entered Eldath's otherwise bemused eyes, "there's the bunch of questions your cronies have been asking, the answers of which I happen to know."

The psionicist nearly froze when he realized that the so-called Eldath had been able to track his agents behind all the layers of intrigue and the plans within plans and the careful wording that had been used. Curiosity piqued against his best judgment, his mind probed that of the fighter to find out just who that Houseless male actually was.

He hit a white-hot mental wall.

Eldath, obviously having felt the attempted intrusion, smirked and adopted an even more relaxed stance.

"Ah, my friend, you see, I am not exactly the trash you'd like to believe me to be. I've got my secrets, and you'll have to respect them, I'm afraid."

Kimmuriel instantly disliked this contact. He had underestimated him, and because it was a mistake he'd not committed for nearly half a century, the stranger was only adding insult to injury. The psionicist knew only too well that such a mistake could have cost him his life.

"I see," was all he replied, icily. "So you presume not only to know the questions that interest me, but also their answers?"

"I believe that is what I said," the fighter smiled pleasantly, the handsome gesture hiding perfectly his relief when he saw that his stunt seemed to be working.

"I wonder, how would you have acquired that information."

Phrased as a question, but it was not. Bregan D'aerthe's patience was starting to run thin.

"Perhaps you've heard of the one who called herself _Valsharess_. She was mildly interested in the same item you're investigating now. She charged me with retrieving it."

Eldath spoke casually, and Kimmuriel never showed a hint of emotion when the verbal blast was delivered. He had heard of the drow Matron who had gathered an army of immense proportions and had subdued an extremely powerful devil to march upon anything and everything that stood in her way. His sources had reported that the threat had been eliminated long before it reached Menzoberranzan, but he had to admit that he lacked all details of her downfall.

"The fact that you have failed to recover it speaks poorly of your flaunted non-trash status, then," the psionicist decided to stall and learn as much as he could while he still had the disposition to deal with the insolent drow.

"Not quite as poorly as you imply. Unfortunately for her, by the time she ordered me to make the move, I'd already decided that she was the loosing side. Therefore, there was no reason to comply, was there?"

The co-leader of Bregan D'aerthe made a conscious effort to remember everything he'd ever heard about the events the other was referring to. There wasn't much to recall, though, because everything had happened many miles to the south and while he had kept track of it, the band had been too preoccupied with local business to investigate too deeply.

However, he did know that the Valsharess army had been unrivalled and had destroyed a couple of small drow cities before suddenly being brought to a halt when it seemed that it was impossible to stop her.

"And how could you foresee such a thing?"

Eldath smiled knowingly. He could tell the psionicist exactly what he wanted to hear, and he could add much, much more, for he had been the leader of the crazy female's most trusted elite male squad, but...

"Ah, now, you do realize that that is a completely off-topic question and it'll have its very own price, don't you, Kimmuriel of the fallen House Oblodra?"

If Kimmuriel was surprised by being addressed with a name that should lay forgotten, he didn't show it – the last thing he was going to do was letting that arrogant drow gain the upper hand in their exchange.

"Very well," he tossed a medium sized pouch full of gems to the other, making a show of being bored with the whole conversation. "Tell me all you know of this artifact and let us be on our way."

The pouch was thrown back at him, unchecked.

"I'm sorry, but I don't accept that currency," Eldath's eyes suddenly were extremely serious, though his body never lost its relaxed stance.

"Is that so. What is your price then?"

"Why, partnership of the most successful business for drow males in all of the Underdark, of course."

Kimmuriel thought he wasn't hearing right. How dared he to request entrance in Bregan D'aerthe? Not only entrance, but, co-leadership too? The psionicist decided that probably he could find a different source.

"Your insolence will cost you your life," he remarked, dryly.

"No reason to get all violent, my friend. I know how we can solve this problem."

"You should accept the money while you have the chance."

The fighter merely smiled, and stood up straight, rolling his shoulders in a stretching manner; still showing off a relentless confident front.

"No money will do the trick. No, we're going to set up a future market."

Kimmuriel felt dazed: he didn't know what a future market was, but he didn't like the sound of it. Eldath took his silence as a cue to explain the concept further:

"You could attempt to kill me or to force the information out of me; but then perhaps the rest of my squad will move faster than you and will get your precious artifact before you get anywhere close; on the other hand I could take the money that I don't need and attempt to set up my own rogue band. Pretty nasty things, both options. So what we do, what we do is settling for something a little worse than our best expectations so that our worst expectations are not fulfilled."

Kimmuriel frowned openly. It was an alien concept to drow society, but then again his band's motto of "mutual benefit" was quite alien too, and this idea seemed slightly similar. He pictured Jarlaxle's face when he said that his request hadn't been heeded, and decided to take the plunge.

"What do you suggest?"

"I tell you where to go and what to expect. You hand me over a lieutenant's place within Bregan D'aerthe," Eldath smirked again. "After recent events, my guess is that you are in dire need of filling the job anyway."

Kimmuriel suppressed a shiver at the amount of information about the inner workings of the band that the last statement of the fighter hinted, and already fearing how he'd explain to Jarlaxle, he decided that useful liabilities were to be kept as close as possible.

"Very well. Shall we discuss the rest of the details at my office, Lieutenant Eldath?"

"That's more like it. Do lead the way," said drow grinned darkly, thoroughly enjoying the first victory in his new life. "Now, about the Dodrien crypts..."

o O o

"... So... future markets, indeed."

Jarlaxle absently changed his eye patch from one ruby orb to the other, his mind processing the information and following its repercussions along scores of different possible outcomes. An impish beaming smile slowly crept its way onto his face, and Kimmuriel cringed internally, already figuring what was coming next.

Suddenly, and accompanied with a great hat flourish, Jarlaxle exploded.

"But this is the concept of the future! Can you imagine the possibilities? The endless fields where it could be applied? The overwhelming profit of it all! Come on, do return to Menzoberranzan," he all but shoved Kimmuriel back through his dimensional door. "Start working on this immediately! I want charts detailing our gains if we were to apply this to... say, rumor and supply traffic in Melee-Magthere, for starters! Accept money, favors and information as payment, for example. We will adjust the method as we go..."

Jarlaxle's voice faded as the glimmering bluish door closed, and Kimmuriel stood alone in his chambers. Looking around, he ascertained that he was alone, and decided to indulge for once doing what he wanted to do.

He dug his hands in his hair and groaned.

He knew it! He knew Jarlaxle would _love_ the damn idea!

The psionicist could only guess how much effort it would take to put the new project to work. His only hope was that surely he could delegate a good portion of it on his new Lieutenant, on account of him being the "expert" – revenge, oh such a sweet dessert...

Yes, indeed, co-leadership of Bregan D'aerthe was sometimes a fate worse than death.


End file.
